


Book Byting Beetles

by madammarcia (beebae)



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Fluff, Flyte, Friendship, Light Angst, Magyk, i mean as fluffy as i get really but, i mean it think it's light idk, marcia & septimus are family, or at least they're figuring out how to be, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:27:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebae/pseuds/madammarcia
Summary: Set just weeks before the events of Flyte, the Library is Beetle-infested (no, not THAT Beetle), Marcia is Shadow-stricken, and Septimus isn't quite sure if he's allowed to do anything.
Relationships: Septimus Heap & Marcia Overstrand
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Book Byting Beetles

**Author's Note:**

> just a few weeks before flyte, and also an au where boris catchpole enters the second-chance program just a month or so early so i can use it to my authorial advantage. anyways, there's a severe and i mean severe lack of fanfiction in this fandom and, even more, there's a severe lack of good, old fashioned, bonding, mentor/tutor, marcia & septimus platonic fanfiction, so if i have to create that niche with my bare hands, mark my words, so i will.

It had been precisely 539 days of Marcia’s nonsense, and Septimus was very well over it.

Stuffed up into the golden pyramid library, surrounded by walls of dust that materialized through peeks of sunlight, and the all-too familiar scent of hundred-year-old parchment and strange, lingering incense, Marcia and Septimus were hard at work. Well, at least Marcia was. Septimus was meant to be checking each and every book, tome, and scroll in his back corner for any sign of the rapidly spreading infestation of  **Book Byting Beetles** , but in reality, he’d been flipping through the same  _ Vegetable Gardens And Other Practykal Magyk: A Guide _ for the last five minutes. 

Marcia had insisted on starting at one end of the library, and Septimus at another, quickly spiraling around each other with their work, although he was much slower. One would think that after spending morning after morning confined in its spaces, one would be sick of the rows and rows of writings, but Septimus could spend his whole life in here if he must. That was not the reason for his dawdling. 

As soon as he was convinced that Marcia was an acceptable distance away, far enough that not even her deft ears could hear him, he let out a whisper, and barely even that: “Alther.”

Eyes down, thumbing through the pages, he hadn’t moved a muscle, but knew at once from the faint stirring of air behind his neck— like a summer breeze passing by— that he was no longer alone in his corner. Septimus was glad for the old ghost’s habit of hanging around in the daytime, infinitely fascinated with his apprentice’s apprentice’s studies.

Again, without even so much of a change in the pace at which he was flipping the pages, so as not to draw suspicion in case the current ExtraOrdinary Wizard had happened to look up, Septimus spoke: “How is she today?”

There was no need for Alther Mella to be quiet, as he was choosing, currently not to **Appear** to Marcia, but he whispered his response anyways. “You are her Apprentice. I would expect you to be the one to know.”

Septimus chanced a look upwards to the ghost, recently-turned green eyes unamused, before flicking back to his book. In that moment, he saw all he needed from Alther’s meaningful, albeit dusty, expression. Still, Alther sighed, and continued.

“The  **Shadow** is growing stronger. It will be visible to you soon enough.”

Although he was too  **UnTrained** to currently spot what was plaguing his mentor, there were other things Septimus could see— currently, a chill that Marcia was unsuccessfully trying to fight back by nonchalantly drawing her cloak around herself.

It was a trick that he’d learned in the Young Army, loathe as he was to think of it, to be seemingly focused on one thing— head down, eyes glued— while the peripheral caught glimpses and snippets of another. It had served him well with lots of blackmail fodder that he had never had the courage to actually use when he was younger.

But it wasn’t just his peripheral that had caught onto the signs: a strong aversion to even the slightest hint of  **Darkeness** \- even so that a loose spider would frighten her; late nights spent paging the books of the library until the early sun rose, and Septimus interrupted her studies with his morning cleanings; and perhaps, thought Septimus, the worst of all of them, was how easily Marcia seemed to be set off, by simply the littlest thing.

Septimus frowned at the thought. Not just because it meant that he was getting admonished for leaving dirty dishes unwashed in the sink, now, but because he had read, in at least four or more books on the subject of  **Darkeness** , that it meant the  **Shadow** was beginning to seep into his tutor. It made chills run fervently down his spine, despite the warm presence beside him.

“I wish there was something I could do, something  _ more _ ,” Septimus muttered. For ten long years he had had nothing but a tattered Young Army pack and three digits as a name— the thought of losing everything he had now, as fantastical as it all was, was heartbreaking, and all because of some stupid  **Shadow** .

Alther was calm in his reply, speaking with that soothing tone that Septimus was so fond of. “Well, my Apprentice has never been one to—“

Before he could finish, Septimus felt a pair of eyes lodge on him as Marcia fixed him with an accusatory gaze through the piles of volumes that separated them. Septimus, who wasn’t sure that he had made any noise to warrant the glare, continued, unbothered, as if he hadn’t noticed the stare, and as if he had no reason to notice it, anyways, since he was very calmly doing his work,  _ thank you very much _ . After a beat of dead silence, broken only by the turning of Septimus’ pages, Marcia broke off the look, though she wasn’t entirely sure she was satisfied. She felt rather like a teacher who was keeping an eye on a misbehaving schoolboy— though, she thought, rather guilty, Septimus had given her no reason to.

Marcia returned to her work, which was, she noted, progressing much faster than her pupil’s, though she felt much too bad now to say anything about it aloud, and prompted herself to mind her own business. Septimus took his own note, and after a few moments of simple peace, he resumed his gossip with the ghost.

“You were saying, Alther?” He used the putting of one book away,  _ finally _ , as a cover for his words, and picked up another.

“ _I was saying_ , that Marcia has never been known for her eagerness to accept help. She’d much rather do it her way.” And then, with a smile, he added: “If you hadn’t noticed.”

Septimus allowed a half smile at that before he spoke. “But surely there’s something more efficient than the  **ShadowSafe** ? That thing’s taking ages, and it has a billion pieces— trust me, I’d know— and... just point me in the right direction, Alther, there has to be some Ancient Book with some spell that can fix it. Not just the...”

While Septimus struggled to find the words to accurately describe the  **ShadowSafe** , because  _ weird _ didn’t quite cut it, Alther gave a grim smile. The young boy was quite headstrong in his own way.

“...smelly old  **ShadowSafe** ,” Septimus decided at last, because “smelly old” always seemed to be a proper descriptor for anything unsavory he’d run into.

But Alther was no longer paying attention to him. He was, instead, creasing his brow at the fact that, despite Septimus’ tone having unintentionally going higher and louder as he spoke in frustration, a lack of Marcia seemed to be present. 

In a second, his question as to why was answered. A rather loud clatter of books could be heard from her side of the library, and Septimus knew that sort of sound well, after his many mornings tidying those sorts of piles up. Intentional, or not, Alther suddenly  **Appeared** to all, and Septimus dropped the rather-fragile book he was holding to get over to the source of the crash.

“Marcia?” Septimus called out, his mind already racing with all of the terrible things that could have happened to her. Perhaps she had collapsed, perhaps she had been  **Consumed** (it didn’t help that he had just read about  **Consuming** the night before, so it was fresh in his mind.)

Much to his relief, and Alther’s, who was floating slightly ahead, there came a perfectly conscious sounding reply: “Yes?”

It sounded a bit too stern, Septimus thought, after that noise. He rounded the last bookcase, and frowned. “You’re on the floor.”

Marcia’s bright green eyes met his, and, faintly: “...Yes.”

And so she was. Back to the gold patterned wall behind her, pages and scrolls strewn about her, she sat against the wall, and Marcia felt her brows furrow. She drew her cloak tighter around her, an instinct by now, and looked back up to her Apprentice, arching an eyebrow, as if to say:  _ “Did you need something?” _

Septimus felt silly, briefly, at the sight of the perfectly-intact ExtraOrdinary Wizard, and after the disapproving eyebrow raise, he nearly turned on his heel to get back to work before he was scolded, too. Alther Mella, however, was not so easily fooled. He hovered down to Marcia’s other side, looking particularly opaque due to the library’s dust and the lack of sunlight, the windows not quite reaching this corner. If you were passing by, if not for the floating, you might have thought he was alive. 

“Marcia,” he said, in the way that not quite anyone else could manage. Marcia, who hadn’t noticed the ghost despite his now very obvious presence, flinched. “Are you quite alright?” 

Rather than respond, as Septimus was expecting her to, with some severe proclamation (“ _ Yes, of course I’m fine, you old ghost, I tripped!” _ ) he watched with bated breath as she slowly shook her head “no.” It was perhaps the eerie silence that threw him off, even more than the answer itself, as he’d never known Marcia to be so silent. Even Alther looked a bit spooked, and Septimus hadn’t even known it was possible for ghosts  _ to _ look spooked.

"Here,” Septimus began, taking charge, “let me help you up, then.” 

It seemed as though the reverie had snapped however, and Marcia fiercely drew her arm from Septimus’ grasp, before confusion took over her now-pale face. Before she could entertain the uncertainty any longer, her normal tone had returned. “No, I’m quite capable of standing up by myself, thank you.”

Septimus pointedly ignored the shakiness in her voice as she spoke, and stepped out of the way as Marcia came to her feet, her brows twitching together for a moment, which was not an altogether unfamiliar sight. He decidedly chose not to ask about what had happened, or why she was on the ground, or if she needed any help, because although he was quite glad that Marcia’s typical testiness was back in place (as it meant that things were okay) he did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

However, as soon as she had stood, he could not escape the unmistakable sight of a shudder, rather violently, running over her, her foot brushing past one of the spilled books as she steadied herself on the wall. Septimus noticed a few charms spilling out of the parchment pockets of the spell book, and knelt to begin to collect it, before they could get lost in the mess. It was then that he noted, collecting the dark obsidian stones that were, mostly, uniform in size, the  **Reverse Incantation** etched neatly into their surface. Septimus put two and two together before he had even returned the charms to their rightful place, and he snapped the book shut as soon as they were tucked away with a great cloud of dust.

“Marcia,” Septimus ventured, holding the book close to his chest. “You know I can handle these  **Beetles** all by myself, perhaps you should go… make sure the rest of the Tower is alright?”

His eyes pleaded for Alther to step in and help, and with a swift motion, he showed the ghost a flash of the **Reverse** **Charms** book— which told Alther all he needed to know. One simple, accidental touch from a **Darke** charm had nearly knocked Marcia out.

While Marcia was gearing up to prepare a rather long-winded,  _ I’m-perfectly-fine-here-and-why-aren’t-you-where-you’re-supposed-to-be-Septimus _ rant, Alther came to her side. His hand settled, or rather, drifted, on her shoulder, and he fixed her with a look.

“The boy is right, and—“ he held up another ghostly hand before Marcia could interject. “And you know it. Now, we both know the Tower needs you, and I should’ve thought you had learned that from our events last year. You ought to go sit down before you render yourself  _ completely _ useless to everyone else.”

Septimus was shocked. He’d never heard the ghost speak that way, and he was rather impressed. Marcia seemed quite shocked as well, although less impressed. The ghost’s green eyes were sparkling, kindly, as if tacking on a rather desperate: “ _ Please _ ?”

One look at Septimus, peering up at her with wide eyes that reminded her so much of the young boy she had first found buried in the snow, and Marcia knew that arguing her way out of it wasn’t an option. There was no amount of “I’m fine”s or “Leave it be”s to smooth it over. It was her own fault for choosing such a clever Apprentice, she supposed. 

Throwing up her hands, Marcia relented. “Oh, alright, _fine_. I’ll go.”

Septimus immediately felt a stab of regret— not only that he was going to have to eradicate the  **Book Byting Beetle** s now, all by himself, which would take hours— but that Marcia was now going to have to settle, alone, or not quite alone, with the  **Shadow** constantly trailing her. As Marcia began off, as dignified as usual, but still shakily, Septimus found himself following her, as well.

He couldn’t bear the thought of her in her room, the  **ShadowSafe** looming nearby, and the  **Shadow** holding close to her with no one else around. He knew that he wouldn’t want to be abandoned in that state, and even if she would never show it, in the year and a half of apprenticeship, Septimus was pretty sure Marcia wouldn’t want to be, either. When Marcia finally noticed Septimus behind her, which did take a moment, as she was rather used, now, to being followed, she shot him a quizzical glance, which prompted Septimus to hurry and trot up to her side. 

“I’ll just, uh, pick up a few things from the study?” He felt bad about lying, but he needn’t have, because Marcia didn’t believe it for a second. With a sigh, a rather defeated one, she nodded, and gestured him out first, following after as he set back down the library’s staircase.

As soon as they were back in her apartment, Marcia sat down on the plush purple couch, quite relieved, and looked expectantly at Septimus to grab whatever he needed from her study. He didn’t budge, standing awkwardly in place, before, quite suddenly, snapping his fingers and lighting the fireplace. The dimness that seemed to radiate nearby the ShadowSafe dissipated, and Marcia arched her eyebrows. 

“You know someone is going to have to clear the library,” she said, realizing slowly that Septimus was quite determined to stay at her side, though she wasn’t quite sure why. He opened the curtains that overlooked the landing pad, and the rest of the courtyard and let in a full stream of sunlight. Marcia sighed. “Septimus.”

He turned, and regarded his mentor. She looked tired, more than angry, which was a relief. “Warmth is one of the best repellants of  **Darkeness** .” He smiled. It was one of their very first lessons, especially after their run-in with DomDaniel so close on the mind.

“Very good,” she returned the smile gently, and knew in that moment, she had melted. She waved her hand towards his room upstairs. “I suppose, if you’d like, we can go over some  **Incantations** . I can’t have you falling behind.”

Septimus grinned, but before he could set off to grab the rather hefty book he kept tucked at his bedside for nighttime reading, Marcia was addressing Alther, who had settled down on the ground beside her.

“Alther, would you please go find Boris Catchpole, and inform him of the very special task he has up in the Library?” She sent Septimus a knowing look, perhaps not as forgiving as she appeared of past treatments of her Apprentice. “He’s the only person I trust to remove the infestation, as I can’t imagine he’ll soak up any of the information he’ll be reading.”

Alther floating up, obediently, gave a tease about not being some “Tower errand boy” but floated off, none-the-less. Marcia was already beginning to remove her precious python shoes as Septimus hurried up the stairs, relieved to have won at least  _ one  _ fight.

And so as evening dipped through the windows, this was how they could be found: Marcia with purple socked feet tucked beneath her and her second best blanket wrapped around her, budged up to make room for Septimus, wrapped in her first best blanket, and his  **Incantation** book; two steaming cups of hot chocolate in their hands, and the sound of Marcia rarely, but sternly correcting pronunciations, as needed, which always managed to draw a fond half-smile from them both, at the reminder of each other’s company. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any mistakes, i don't write except for when it just blehs out of me in the form of a random, yearly fanfiction. anyways! thank you so much for reading & please review/comment, and find me on my tumblr @madammarcia.


End file.
